Finding Tomorrow
by WriterSam
Summary: Mandie has graduated from college and is trying to figure out what life goals she has now...and if she wants to share them with someone.
1. Chapter 1

_Tomorrow I'll have to put my foot down, no matter what Grandmother or Mother says. A lady of twenty is quite capable of making her own decisions._ Mandie Shaw slapped her straw hat on her head with more gusto than required, until it hung low over her eyes. Strands of blonde hair escaped her low coiffure. Frowning at them through the mirror, she tied the hat string in a blue bow that matched her light walking dress.

She'd have to change to a travel suit and fix the hairstyle before she left the Woodards. Proper decorum was such a bother sometimes, but Mandie didn't dare give Grandmother Taft anything against her.

Grandmother Taft, Mother, and even Uncle John seemed to think they should plan her life for her. Tell her where to live, when to travel, how to occupy her time, as if she was incapable of making any decisions for herself.

Problem was, Mandie didn't know quite what she wanted to do—just that she had to find out for herself. This week visit with the Woodards was supposed to help her figure things out, so when she went back to Franklin, she could silence the family's busy bodying.

Only this was her last day she could hide from the family.

"Aw, shucks." With that parting sentiment to her reflection, Mandie went downstairs, careful to close the door on the still slumbering Snowball. It would be like him to dart out and get lost. She didn't have time to look for him, because Dr. Woodard would be taking her home this afternoon.

Mrs. Woodard sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. "Morning, dear, would you care for a cup?"

"Maybe later, thanks, I'm going for a walk."

Mandie was relieved when Mrs. Woodard only nodded assent. She probably knew Mandie wished to visit her father's grave once more.

Mandie slipped out of the Woodard's house. Even though it was still early morning, the dew on the ground had evaporated. She'd never remembered a summer being this hot. So much seemed to have changed, even the weather.

She recalled other summers here. Happy times when her father was still alive. She and Joe would have gone to the barn and seen Samantha's newest litter.

Mandie hadn't seen Joe since her college graduation in spring, and then only briefly, as he'd hurried back to the law firm in Louisiana. He must have life figured out.

She hadn't changed. She was still Mandie Shaw, daughter of Jim Shaw, a country man. If only he were alive now, maybe then she wouldn't have this restlessness, this yearning for something she couldn't even name.

Tears sprang into her eyes when she crested the hill of the cemetery.

A tall, well-dressed man stood at the top. Mandie slowed her steps and blinked to clear her blurry vision.

The man raked long fingers through his brown hair.

Mandie's heart hammered as she drew closer. She pushed her hat off to let it dangle down her back, so she could see better. "Joe?"


	2. Chapter 2

Joe smiled but not the familiar, big grin of old, but of a tight-lipped stranger.

Mandie started to pat at her wayward hair strands, but stopped when she realized. No need to fuss around Joe, who'd she'd known all her life. "Why…where…how did you get here?"

"I'll leave it a mystery, or have you already found one to occupy you?" His brown eyes twinkled.

"Mysteries find me, but none this time."

"That little troublemaker of yours hasn't run off somewhere then?"

Mandie stomped her foot. "Joe Woodard, leave Snowball alone. He's helped _solve_ mysteries."

"But can he help you with my mysterious appearance?"

"He just might." The teasing was like old times, and she realized how much she'd missed Joe these past, few years.

"I have news." Joe drew closer and moved as if to grab her hands. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets. "I have enough experience and money saved now to put up my own shingle."

"Really? I'm so proud of you."

Joe scuffed the dirt with his foot and rubbed the back of his neck. He still didn't like compliments, Mandie noticed with amusement.

"Are you still planning on working here in Charley Gap?" She'd be able to see him more often then. She could stay at her father's house and visit him and her Cherokee friends as well. It would almost be like old times.

He shrugged. His gaze flicked to her face then away. "Depends. I was about to look for flowers for your father's grave, but maybe you'd like to be alone?"

So formal and stiff. Mandie responded in kind. "Thank you, that's thoughtful, but I wouldn't mind company."

They were silent as they moved about the cemetery, gathering golden asters and violets. Mandie snuck peeks at him while they picked. Joe looked tanner and broader of shoulders. He still had a quick, long stride, but his unassuming ease was replaced with jerky motion.

Was there something he wasn't telling her? Mandie resisted the urge to ask, but tried to catch his eye. With no success.

They picked more than enough flowers, neither one wanting to stop it seemed. At last, Joe came up to her and deposited his batch into her arms. A dozen or so buds dropped about her feet.

Back near the grave, Mandie made a large bouquet and set it near the headstone. The marker read "James Alexander Shaw; Born April 3 1863; Died April 13, 1900." Terse, leaving so much unsaid. If only he were still alive. Maybe he could have helped her understand her restlessness.

Mandie fell to her knees and sobbed.

"I miss you so much, Daddy. I wish I could see you again."

Joe put an arm around her and rested his cheek on top of her head.

"I love you, Daddy."

"He knows." Joe held her tighter against his side. "He knows."


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter reads a little rough to me, but I seem to notice what needs to be changed _after_ I post. XP At any rate, maybe speed over perfectionism will win the day. Maybe I'll try to smooth this out later.

* * *

After Mandie's tears subsided, she became aware of Joe's nearness. She blushed, but a part of her didn't want to break away. His black suit was finer than the coarse work shirts of old, yet he was still that boy who'd carried her books from school, helped with her chores, and been support for all the ups and downs of growing up. "You're a good friend, Joe."

He let her go and drew back.

"We'll always been friends, won't we?" she asked.

"Well, of course, why wouldn't we?" Joe rocked back on his heels, arms propped on his knees. He gave her a sidelong look. "Are you going to share your big news?"

"What?"

"At your graduation. You said you knew something but couldn't outright state it yet."

Mandie almost laughed at his serious tone. So, she wasn't the only one with a curious streak. "I gave clues in my last letter."

"Which was three months ago. You found someone else to correspond with apparently."

Mandie decided to be mature and ignore his sharp comment. Uncle Ned would be proud. She was rather impressed by her own poise. "No, I haven't written much lately. I've had a lot on my mind."

"What's on your mind—or should I say _who_? Is it that George…Sanders… Stuntly…whoever?" He spat out the names like they were a bad taste in his mouth.

"Joe Woodard, what's gotten into you?" Mandie jumped up and shook out her skirt. If only she could shake off this silly conversation as easily.

He scrambled to his feet, towering over her by a good five inches. "He was sure hanging around you enough at the college. It must be him."

Heat rushed up her neck. How dare he get all jealous and overbearing. Again. She put her hands on her hips. "George _Stuart_ happens to be a friend In fact, he was my escort for all the social events, not that it's any business of yours. Why don't you gr—" _Think first, speak later. Grow up_ had been the tip of her tongue but she checked her temper in time—or maybe just a tad late.

They frowned at each other a moment before Joe sighed. "I'm sorry, Mandie. I don't want to fight. Forgive me?"

A fight seemed to be exactly what he'd wanted, but maybe he had a lot on his mind too. "Of course, I forgive you. Let's visit my father's house, then I'll have to be getting back."

"Okay." He walked beside her, hands in pockets and head down.

"Are you going to guess what my news is or do I have to tell you?"

"If it's about George Stuart, I'd rather we didn't talk at all." Joe kicked at the dirt, which sent a pebble skittering down the road.

Mandie halted. At last the cause of Joe's strange behavior made sense. And here she'd thought she'd been clever with her remarks to Joe, hinting broadly about a college romance and upcoming engagement. All so she could brag about her keen observation skills later—and tease Celia. Honestly, though, how could he have thought she meant herself?

Joe looked back at her. "Aren't you coming?"

"Celia's engaged to Reverend Coggins. That's my news." Mandie picked up her skirt and trotted to catch up.

"Huh?" Was Joe's eloquent response.

"I shouldn't have teased about it."

"Then you're not…" Joe grinned. "Reverend Coggins was your chapel minister, right?"

"Yep. Our last year there, he convinced Celia to play the piano and lead the worship every Sunday. They make a good team." Not just anybody could coax Celia out of her shyness. Mandie doubted she could have gotten her friend to sing in front of all those young people.

Mandie probably wouldn't see her as often once she was married.

"Charleston isn't far away. I'll bet you swap visits all the time." Joe knew her well.

She managed a smile. _So many changes._ It sure felt like too many.

* * *

I'm curious, did anyone else ever think to pair Celia with the Reverend? Think he's mentioned maybe once in _New Horizons. (_ Sorry Jonathon x Celia fans!)


	4. Chapter 4

They approached her father's house, which sat snug and placid within the fenced yard. Behind and to the side, the clucking of hens could be heard from the nearby chicken coop.

"Mr. Smith is visiting a friend in Charlotte but he left a key under one of the flowerpots. First, though, lets check on the chickens," Mandie said.

"Doesn't he have someone coming by for that?"

"One of the schoolboys here, but a few times I've checked the hens looked half starved, poor things."

They went around to the back of the house, and Joe peeked into the chicken coop. "They sure look fat to me. Any rate, they've been taken care of today. Fed, watered, eggs gathered."

"Well, that's a relief, still…"

"I'll keep an eye on things until Mr. Smith is back."

"Thanks, Joe." Mandie squeezed his arm.

He grasped her hand. "Mandie, before we go in..."

Chills flowed through her body. She tried to pull away, but he held tighter.

"I said I'd ask you to marry me again when we were all educated and grown up."

Staring into his serious brown eyes, she remembered the first time he'd looked at her that way.

 _Oh, Joe Woodard, you're not old enough to propose," she teased._

 _"_ _I'm old enough to know what I want," he said. "Well, what is your answer? Will you be my wife—someday?"_

She'd thought he'd moved on. He'd never so much as hinted at marriage for the past three years. Of course, she hadn't seen much of him either. Oh, if only they were kids again swapping notes at school. Life was too complicated now. Too fragile.

"May I ask now?" Joe bent to get a good view of her face. She ducked her head.

"Now, in front of a chicken coop?" Mandie tried for a laugh, but it sounded forced in her own ears. Her heart pounded like the hoofbeats of a runaway horse.

"Well, why not?"

"Because I'm not ready. Anyway, maybe I'll never—"

A crash sounded from inside the house.

Mandie looked at Joe.

"Something could have fallen," he whispered.

Mandie trotted to the front door, dragging him along since he still clasped her hand. With her free hand she lifted the flowerpot. No key. She pushed at the door, and it swung soundlessly on its hinges.

Joe let her go and barred the entrance with his arm. "What are you doing?"

Clinking, like someone banging dishes, emitted from the house.

Mandie's eyes widened.

"Stay back," Joe hissed, then he stepped over the threshold. She crowded at his heels.

Had Mr. Smith come back early? Or had someone let themselves in?

The noise stopped.

The living room was undisturbed. Two rockers with blue cushions kitty-cornered the cold fireplace. The stool Mandie used to sit on beside her father, looked as always. Usually Mandie liked to pause and reminisce here. In ordinary circumstances, that is. She spared the scene but a passing glance.

Joe inched toward the kitchen.

Mandie inched too, only faster. She tripped over his leg and smacked her head against his back. He absorbed the blow with only a small lurch forward, but his shoes scuffed against the floor.

To Mandie's keyed up nerves, it echoed in the house as loud as a gunshot.

They hurried the last few steps to the kitchen just in time to see the back door flung open. A short, rotund figure streaked out.

"Hey, stop!" Joe tore out of the house in pursuit.


	5. Chapter 5

Mandie hitched up her skirt and sprinted outside.

The intruder had made it halfway to the barn, when Joe took a flying leap. They tumbled to the ground with a crunch. Before Mandie could blink, Joe was on top, pinning the figure down.

"Get off me, ya big brute!" The voice was young and full of venom.

Holding the kid by one arm, Joe helped him up as Mandie approached. The boy looked to be about nine or ten, small but wiry.

"Aw, look what you did." He scowled down at his damp shirtfront. A sticky yellow substance dripped down at his feet. He untucked his plaid shirt, shook it, and brown eggshell fragments rained the ground.

"So you're a thief," Joe said.

"I ain't no thief. If I were, I'd pummel ya." He screwed one eye shut and stared up at Joe as if he had half a mind to pummel him anyway.

The boy caught sight of Mandie then and let out a low whistle. After spitting in his free hand, he flattened the cowlick at the back of his head. The tawny colored spike sprang straight back up once done. "Hiya, miss. Tell him to let go. I can explain."

Mandie nodded at Joe, who let him go but stayed close by.

"I'm Mandie. What's your name?" she asked with a smile, which he reciprocated.

"Robin."

"Are you hungry?"

"Nope. I ate inside—" he glared at Joe before turning back to Mandie "—but it wasn't stealing. I earned that meal and those eggs besides."

"Oh, then Mr. Smith hired you to feed the chickens."

"Yep, that's it. I fed and watered 'em. Then gathered the eggs that _he_ broke." Robin jerked a thumb at Joe.

"If you're telling the truth, why'd you run?" Joe asked.

Robin's jaw muscles rippled as he stared hard at the ground. "On a count of…I thought you were a thief," he said at last.

"Hmm, what's your last name?" Joe asked.

"Hood. She your girl?"

Joe shot a glance at Mandie then cleared his throat. "Never mind. You need to give a better name than Robin Hood."

"If you don't like it, you come up with one." His voice rose in volume again.

Mandie gave Robin a more thorough inspection. His clothes were worn and tattered, shoes rather dilapidated, and face smeared with a month's worth of dirt it seemed. Since Joe didn't seem to know him as one of the town's boys, Mandie guessed he might be a runaway. Remembering her own scary and lonely flight at thirteen, she resolved to help him patch things up and get safely home again.

"Don't mind him, Robin. Joe hasn't any imagination. Can you tell me where you live?" Mandie smiled and nodded encouragingly.

"Sherwood forest."

Joe hooted.

"But what about at night, don't you have a bed to sleep in?" Mandie bent down so she was eye level with him.

He shrugged.

"What about your family?"

Another shrug. "Would you like to join my band? You can be Maid Marion."

"I'd like that."

"Mandie…" Joe cocked his head to the side. "A word, please."

She stepped back a few paces.

"You, stay." Joe told Robin before he joined her. One eye still trained on the boy, he spoke in hushed tones. "He's clearly a runaway. I'll take him to the authorities for them to handle."

"Oh, Joe, no, I doubt he'll tell them anything."

"Maybe not, but they can check Missing Person reports."

"That could take a while. In the meantime, they might stick him in a jail cell to sleep. Your parents would agree-he's better off with us until we know more. Besides, I think I can get him to talk. He likes me."

"That makes two of us." Joe grinned. "I can't say no to you."

Mandie blushed.

It was in that moment, Robin made another break for it.


	6. Chapter 6

First, a shout out to my guest reviewer(s)! Thanks for the feedback. :) In my attempt to show Joe and Mandie have matured and grown a bit distant over the years, I see where I made Joe seem too stiff. Mandie too, in a way. But for an excuse it sorta supports my theme of change.

Thank you for the input everyone! :) Know it's been a long time, but I do plan on finishing this puppy at some point. Just a lot of other writing related projects sometimes zap my creative energy.

* * *

Robin progressed as far as the fence before Joe caught up. He was shimmying between the railings when Joe nabbed him around the collar. Robin turned toward Mandie with round, glistening eyes. "You can't let him tell anybody 'bout me, or they'll beat me dead for sure."

"Beat you?" Joe released him, his brow crinkled. "Has someone been beating you?"

He ducked his head and kicked at the ground. "Little John don't. That's why I gotta get back."

"Where does he live?" Mandie asked gently.

"He?" Robin ground his toe in the ground some more. "He's in...Franklin."

"I'm going home to Franklin today. You can come with me."

Robin's smile produced two dimples. "No fooling?"

Mandie nodded. "Which reminds me, we should head back before Dr. Woodard comes looking for me."

"My trunk should have arrived. They'll know you're with me, but I didn't know you were leaving today." Joe frowned. "I just got here."

"I know." Mandie sighed. "All this bother with having a chaperone before I can go anywhere. I wish I were a simple country girl again. Seems I had a whole lot more freedom and less fuss."

"If that were the case you couldn't have gone to Europe twice. Or eat as much chocolate cake as you do." Joe flashed his old grin, and Mandie couldn't help but smile in return.

"Can we go or are you two gonna moon over each other forever?" Robin's face was a perfect picture of disgust.

Joe laughed much too loud in Mandie's opinion. Without a word, she started walking fast back onto the country road. Robin skipped along a little behind while Joe's long strides drew him easily up beside Mandie.

"I don't mind, Mandie." He tugged at a strand of her hair that curled at the back of her neck. "You can moon over me if you want."

"Joe Woodard!" Face flaming, she stopped long enough to stomp her foot.

"Just throwing it out there." He shrugged then checked back on Robin, skipping along behind. His voice lowered to a whisper. "If he's telling the truth, I hope the Sheriff isn't his folks. Might be hard to let him stay with this Little John person."

"Even if they were abusing him?"

"Afraid so. I'll do some discreet digging on my side, when you leave. Sure would help if we had his real name to go by."

"If I find out, I'll write."

After a few quiet moments, Joe shook his head. "I don't how you do it, Mandie."

"What?"

"You didn't have time for a mystery here, so you found one to take with you."


	7. Chapter 7

Robin, cleaned up and in an old shirt of Joe's, had plopped into the bed of the wagon. He petted and whispered to Snowball like they were the only two around.

"Make sure you hold onto his leash." Mandie reminded him. "I wouldn't want him to get away."

"Aww, he's got no reason to go nowhere." But he wrapped the leash around his wrist twice.

Joe offered his hand to help Mandie up onto the wagon seat.

She hesitated but managing alone with her cumbersome traveling skirt would be too awkward. His grin was downright smug as he helped her up next to his father.

His large, warm hand squeezed hers before he let go. "Maybe I could come calling next week. That is, if you're not—"

"Oh, Joe, that would be wonderful. We have so much catching up to do." Mandie almost reached over and touched his arm. Thinking better of it, she tightened the tie on her already tight hatstring, which sent more hair tumbling out of her coiffure. "And we ought to know more about…well, _things_ then."

Joe glanced at Robin. "Right." He gripped the back of the buckboard and pulled up with one foot balanced on the wheel spoke.

His sudden nearness made Mandie shift away. A woodsy fragrance wafted toward her. Had he always worn cologne? She was sure he hadn't earlier at her father's grave.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Heat spread from the spot and flamed her whole face.

"Well, so long!" Joe jumped off, and the wagon lurched into motion.

Robin groaned. "Yuck."

Dr. Woodard chuckled.

A strange almost queasy sensation plagued Mandie's stomach as she turned to wave.

He had his hat in hand, arcing it above his head with a wide grin on his face.

 _Wait, did Joe ask to call on me—as in courting? Surely, he hadn't meant it in that way._ Such a formal request from Joe was silly. But then the easy, old ways of things had evaporated somewhere along the way.

So many changes had already taken place this last two years, why couldn't her best friend at least act normal? Mandie blew out her breath. Of course, Joe had kissed her before in much the same fashion. Only her cheek hadn't tingled like this afterwards. Was she actually the one changing? _Aw, shucks, why do relationships have to be so complicated?_ She pushed thoughts of him aside.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. As much as Mandie and Dr. Woodard tried to draw out more information from Robin, he stubbornly clung to his same cryptic answers. When Mandie pressed about knowing Little John's address, he said he'd tell her when they got to Franklin.

If he didn't, her parents or Mrs. Taft might interfere.

Maybe Robin provided a distraction from her own uncertain future, or he was a mystery for her to solve. Whatever the reason, she didn't want all the grownups involved. Then, what if someone insisted on turning him over to the authorities? The police might send him back to whoever he'd run away from.

Was it too much to ask her family would let her use her own judgement on the matter? Probably so, where Mrs. Taft was concerned. As much as she loved her grandmother, Mandie hoped she'd gone back home to Asheville.


	8. Chapter 8

Mrs. Taft hadn't left for Asheville. But Mandie, Dr. Woodard and Robin arrived while everyone prepared for supper, so explanations were postponed. Aunt Lou took Robin under her wing, and Mandie retired to her room to change out of her traveling suit.

In front of the full-length mirror, she undid her hair and brushed the long blonde tresses. Snowball lay at the foot of the bed, purring.

Someone knocked.

When Mandie bade entrance, the door flung open. "I heah the doctuh's son done back from New Orleans."

"Hello to you, too, Liza."

"When's he comin' round here?" Liza moved behind Mandie and neatened the white sash on Mandie's light green dress.

Mandie assumed an innocent air as she looked at Liza's reflection. "Who?"

"Lawsy mercy, Missy Manda, you know right well who's I mean." Liza frowned.

"Joe said he'll come next week sometime."

"Good." She laughed. "'Bout time you's marching down the aisle."

"What?" Mandie hit a snag in her hair and winced. "I'm not ready to get married to Joe or anyone else. Maybe I'll never get married. I wish people would stop assuming what I should and shouldn't do."

Liza commandeered the hairbrush with a disparaging look at her in the mirror. "Miss Pretty Thang's home."

Mandie sighed. Apparently, some things never changed. "I doubt Polly Cornwallis would dare come around. Not after all she's done."

"I wouldn't put nuthin' past her." Liza brushed Mandie's hair with swift but gentle strokes. 'Course, they say she done snagged herself a parleemint man. He's twice her age but twice as rich."

"Liza." Mandie turned to face her. "I don't want to hear anymore gossip. Was there something you wanted?"

She put her free hand to her cheek. "Why, there sho' was. I got some letters."

Liza drew two envelopes from her apron pocket and handed them over. "I best be leaving befoh Aunt Lou starts wondering where I is." She danced out the door.

Mandie had a little time to read her two letters. The first was from Celia and was brimming with the latest news about her engagement and old college friends. Mandie skimmed it, only smiling when she read about Grace Wilson. _She thanks you for the sewing machines and especially for advocating the need for volunteers. We've been able to help over two hundred people receive new sets of clothes this year._

Such a difference from when Mandie, Celia, and Mary Lou first learned of Grace's efforts to help the poor. Back then it'd only been them and a few others, stitching and mending clothes by hand.

The letter went on to expound Rev. Coggins' merits. For some reason Mandie wasn't in the mood for it and dropped the letter on the bed. The edge of the paper hit the tip of Snowball's tail. He popped open one eye and meowed in protest.

"Sorry, you can go back to sleep."

Mandie turned her attention to the other letter. Jonathan Guyer wrote from Paris.

 _Dear Mandie,_

 _I'm in France for a few more months. As you know, I like to brush up on my French whenever I can. You need to come over here! I'm sure your grandmother would take you. And Father wouldn't object…_

 _By the way, I looked up Adrian Nolan while in Ireland last year. He was quite cool and ignored any mention of your name. Guess he's upset you didn't fall madly in love with him. How many hearts are you planning on stringing along, mademoiselle?_

 _Tell Joe I said hi._

 _Would you believe I'm working myself to the bone? I'm trying my hand at writing and photographing a travel book. All the publishers will be clamoring for it. I'll ask you to fact check for me—didn't you minor in world history or something? You'll be one of the first to receive an autographed copy, lucky you._

 _What's your latest mystery to solve? Write!_

 _Soon to be famous travel writer,_

 _Jonathan_

Adrian Nolan. Mandie had written him once and only once to discourge him from visiting the States on her account. He never wrote her again. That was almost three years ago. Jonathan probably exaggerated Adrian's behavior. Teasing was his specialty.

The real interest lied in his travel book. Even carefree Jonathan pursued concrete goals for the future.

"Seems like everyone but me has life all figured out, Snowball." Mandie rubbed his head and headed downstairs.


End file.
